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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29187762">Everyday Heroes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonschange_butpeopledont/pseuds/seasonschange_butpeopledont'>seasonschange_butpeopledont</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Pedro Pascal - Fandom, We Can Be Heroes (2020)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Grief/Mourning, Minor Character Death, a bit of pining, a few curse words, an explosion, depressed reader, implied injury</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 14:06:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,364</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29187762</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonschange_butpeopledont/pseuds/seasonschange_butpeopledont</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The three times you discovered Marcus Moreno was a hero.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Marcus Moreno/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Everyday Heroes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This got out of hand and apparently I only know how to write hopeless pining. Do we agree that Marcus gives off Clark Kent vibes or am I alone in this?</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When you’d left the house that morning, the heels you wore had seemed like a great idea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You were headed in for your first day at your new job and you wanted to make a good impression by wearing what you perceived to be your most professional outfit. You’d made it to the coffee shop down the street from your apartment with minimal difficulty, though you were certain to have blisters on your feet by the end of the day. Thankfully, your receptionist position meant that you would spend the majority of your day more or less chained to the front desk, answering phones, taking messages, scheduling appointments, and greeting visitors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t know much about Vil-Tech. You’d googled them before your first interview, of course- you weren’t a total idiot and you’d never dare show up unprepared, especially when you needed this job so badly- but your search had yielded only a few results. Most of what you’d found had been articles from the newspaper. The researchers at the lab had, apparently, recently had some success in clean energy technology. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Protons, neutrons, particle accelerators, electromagnetic fields… </span>
  </em>
  <span>You knew nothing about it, really, but it sounded impressive. And clean energy had to be good, right? When they’d hired you, it hadn’t seemed like a big deal that you knew next to nothing about the company itself. They were only looking for a receptionist, after all, not a scientist. If they’d wanted you to know exactly what was going on in the floors above you, you were sure that they would have let you know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With your coffee in hand, you made your way towards the Vil-Tech building. All in all, it seemed like the universe was on your side this morning. You’d woken up early enough to make yourself look decent. Your favorite barista had made your coffee just the way you liked it, and it even looked like you would be early for work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And then it all seemed to happen in slow motion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The upper half of your body was already moving forward, even as the heel of your shoe remained firmly wedged in the sidewalk crack. You felt the coffee sloshing around in the stainless steel travel mug in your hands, threatening to douse your crisp white blouse in the steaming beverage. You blindly threw your hand out in front of you, bracing yourself to hit the concrete and thinking to yourself that this was just one of those days when this might as well happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the harsh impact you’d prepared yourself for never came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had taken you a moment to process that someone had caught you. Someone with impeccable reflexes, it seemed, as not only had they rescued you from taking a humiliating fall in the middle of a busy sidewalk, but they also managed to save your coffee without spilling a drop. To say that you were impressed by the feat was an understatement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when you looked up at your savior, you were damn near </span>
  <em>
    <span>speechless</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” He asked, his dark eyes finding yours from beneath his black-framed glasses. And, other than the approximately thirty-seven heart attacks you’d had in the span of 2.5 seconds only moments before, you found yourself nodding in confirmation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine. I… Thank you,” You breathed out, a warm, tingly feeling spreading out from your chest and right down to your toes. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Gods</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he had the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. He appeared to be somewhere in his mid-forties, and wore a leather jacket with his slacks and tie, a combination you’d never quite seen before, but decided suited him quite well. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure? You look a little dizzy,” He noted. His arm was still around your waist, and you were grateful for it, because you didn’t quite trust the integrity of your knees at the moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, which had exceeded the socially acceptable amount of time to moon over a stranger while clutching their remarkably toned biceps for dear life by a long-shot, your brain finally seemed to catch up to the rest of you, and promptly flooded your thoughts with embarrassment. You released your death-grip on his arms immediately, trying to maintain your dignity as you yanked your heel from the concrete crevice in a distinctly unladylike manor. All the while, the handsome stranger remained right there, dutifully holding your coffee and trying his best to hide the amusement in his eyes with a polite smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath and smoothing out your outfit, you nodded at him once again. “I’m fine,” You said in what you hoped was your most composed voice. He promptly handed you your coffee, and you swore you felt electricity when his fingers brushed against yours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Glad to hear it,” He remarked, “That would have been a nasty fall.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nice save, Clark,” You joked, attempting your most charming smile. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Were you flirting? Could you even consider this flirting?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clark?” He repeated, his eyebrows raised in curiosity. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, Clark Kent… with the glasses and... lightning-fast reflexes… saving me from an incredibly embarrassing moment?” You explained weakly. It wasn’t as if you’d never spoken to an attractive man before, but it seemed that the universe was decidedly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>on your side this morning after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Superman?” Another smile found its way to his face. He seemed flattered by your comment. “My daughter </span>
  <em>
    <span>loves </span>
  </em>
  <span>those comics.” At the mention of his daughter, your eyes quickly darted down to his left hand. There was no wedding ring there, but it was clear that there had been one there in the past. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, your daughter has excellent taste. And we could all use a few more heroes in our lives, right?” You sighed wistfully, before adding, “Thank you, by the way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was no big deal,” He assured you. “I’m always happy to help a pretty lady in need.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You laughed quietly at the last part, finding the cheesiness of it adorable. You weren’t quite sure why you were still lingering on the street corner, except that you couldn’t quite bring yourself to walk away just yet. He seemed equally as reluctant to part from you, both of you grinning shyly at one another as you soaked in the meet-cute moment. Right up until his eyes fell to the ID badge clipped to your bag, that is. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that a Vil-Tech badge?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a hint of disappointment in his tone that you couldn’t quite assign a cause to. It wasn’t the question you were expecting. You’d expected him to ask your name, or maybe offer you his, but you could practically see the gears turning in his head by now, so you humored him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep,” You confirmed. “It's my first day. I’m just a receptionist, though…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He nodded slowly, his eyebrows pinching together. He didn’t even try to hide his frown. </span>
  <em>
    <span>What was it about Vil-Tech that seemed to bother him so much?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m really sorry, but I’m running late for work,” He said finally, nodding in the direction you had just come from. He turned his attention back to you, his eyes staring into yours as he spoke with the utmost seriousness. “Good luck on your first day, and… Look after yourself, okay? Vil-Tech might not be what you think it is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, he brushed past you, seemingly in quite a hurry as he disappeared into the crowd and left you standing there, disappointment sinking deep into your bones. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You didn’t even get his name. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>You didn’t see him again for a month. </span>
</p><p><span>Not that you often thought about him </span><em><span>or</span></em><span> his dreamy eyes and ridiculously</span> <span>charming smile </span><em><span>or </span></em><span>his strong arms around your waist. And definitely not that you sometimes idly wondered where he was and how his day was going while you were grocery shopping or stuck at the laundromat. </span></p><p>
  <span>Okay, maybe you did. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe you went to that same coffee shop every week day, hoping that you might bump into him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And maybe you </span>
  <em>
    <span>sometimes</span>
  </em>
  <span> imagined those eyes staring into yours and arms around you in situations where you </span>
  <em>
    <span>weren’t </span>
  </em>
  <span>making a complete fool of yourself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You felt silly for being </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> girl. The one who falls hopelessly in love with strangers you pass on the streets, with anyone who thinks that anyone who so much as holds the door open for you could be your true love. You were a grown up, for goodness sake. You weren’t supposed to believe in that kind of thing anymore. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it was those ridiculous daydreams you found yourself caught up in when a team of Heroics stormed into Vil-Tech on a Tuesday afternoon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I apologize, sir, but Dr. Pershing is out of the office today…” You sighed, listening to the supplier ramble on and on about the importance of Dr. Pershing returning his call. You had already scribbled the message down, along with his name and phone number. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Yes</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’ll be sure to give him the message.” It was difficult to hide the exasperation in your tone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you said the last time,” The man snapped. “Pershing didn’t return my calls for a </span>
  <em>
    <span>week</span>
  </em>
  <span>. I don’t know why they can’t hire someone who knows how to take a message properly. God knows they’ve got the money for it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You tapped the tip of your pen against the notepad on your desk, feeling a lump beginning to form in your throat. “I apologize, Mr. Wells. I’ll make sure that Dr. Pershing gets your message as soon as he returns.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d better,” He grumbled, before the line went dead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You let out a slow breath, easing yourself back from the edge of tears. It had been like this all morning. The scientists in the building were off at a conference for the week, leaving you behind to copy down messages and field angry phone calls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan, the elderly security guard, if you could call him that, offered you a sympathetic smile from his post by the door. You returned it weakly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Closing your eyes, you tried to think of something else. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Brown eyes, charming smile, strong arms. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You repeated it like a mantra. Electricity. The feeling of safety. That warm, fluttering feeling in your stomach, and a rush of calm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When you opened your eyes again, you found Stan staring slack-jawed as the Heroics sprinted into the building, announcing to you, Stan, and the maintenance staff that you all needed to clear the building </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately</span>
  </em>
  <span>. They offered no explanation for their frantic demands, but when a guy in spandex and a cape tells you to go, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>go</span>
  </em>
  <span>. You were sure that, whatever it was, you’d be able to catch the reason for the strange event on the news later that evening. You’d watched them destroy city hall enough times from the comfort of your living room to be sure that you wanted out of this building as soon as possible. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, given that this was your first call-the-Heroics-level emergency, it seems that your idea of immediacy was a bit different from theirs. In the time that it had taken you to grab your jacket, shove your laptop in your purse, and sling the bag over your shoulder, you had already been tackled to the ground by some idiot in a tactical vest. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You don’t remember much about the explosion. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d later learn that Vil-Tech Labs dealt in more than just technological innovation. The research they’d been conducting while locked away in the uppermost floors of the building, all of that gibberish involving the off-site particle accelerator you’d read about, was both sinister and invaluable. Rather than letting the Heroics get their hands on their files to uncover their plans and stop them from being set in motion, </span>
  <em>
    <span>they’d decided to set off an explosion in their own goddamn building</span>
  </em>
  <span>. And thanks to that ‘idiot in a tactical vest’, you were one of the only survivors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But in the meantime, while you were lying on your back in the middle of the lobby feeling like you’d been hit by a train, you were clueless about the nefarious action of the company you’d spent the last month working for. The only thing you could seem to focus on was the pain in your head from where you’d smacked it against the tile flooring, and the weight of the fully grown man on top of you that was currently restricting your breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You must have hit your head even harder than you thought, because there was no way in hell the man who’d been starring in all of your daydreams for months was here, now, on top of you, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>katanas</span>
  </em>
  <span> strapped to his back. You refused to accept that as a reality. Would he even remember you? Why would he? Apparently, the man you’d developed a  stupid little crush on was a </span>
  <em>
    <span>superhero</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He probably helped people all of the time and you were just another-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” You finally hissed, gasping for air. The air was smokey and it stung your eyes and nose when you inhaled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His breathing hitched slightly when you looked up at him, the look of fear clear on your face. “You okay?” He asked, still hovering above you as he pushed himself up on his elbows, careful to avoid the shattered glass that now seemed to cover every flat surface in sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m… reasonably certain I’m not dead,” You replied, an edge of panic in your voice, which was a bit shakier than you would have liked. “What’s happening? I don’t- I don’t understand- Where is Stan-” You coughed, your lungs burning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You idly wondered how long you had before the building started to collapse, its structural integrity surely compromised by the explosion. Of all the ways you could die, being buried alive was up there with the ones you dreaded the most. Your growing panic must have been obvious. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, calm down,” He reassured you. “I’m going to get you out of here. You’re going to be just fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was still spinning when you felt yourself being scooped up into his arms, the edges of your vision growing more and more fuzzy with each breath you took. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have got to stop meeting like this, Clark” You murmured. You swear you feel, rather than hear, a laugh rumble in his chest just before the world goes dark. Maybe he did remember you after all. </span>
</p>
<hr/><p>
  <span>It’s only a little more than a week later, long after you’ve woken up in the hospital and been discharged, that you find yourself sitting in the coffee shop down the street. It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re staring blankly into your vanilla latte. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You aren’t sure why you’re up so early. The doctors had ordered you to take it easy, and it’s not like you had a job to go to anymore. You could have slept in, made your own coffee at home, and stayed curled up on your couch watching Netflix and hiding from the rest of the world like you had been for the past week. You felt horrible that you’d been associated with a place like Vil-Tech. You should have known that something was off about the place, but you’d never realized it, never bothered to look into anything when things seemed off. You felt so stupid for it now. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Were you just as bad as the rest of them? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sure, all you’d done was answer phones for them, but…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan, your only friend at Vil-Tech, the kind man who had shared half of his sandwich at lunch with you more times than you could count and always had a smile for you when he greeted you in the mornings, had never made it out of the building. You supposed that you should consider yourself lucky that the Heroics had saved you, but the loss of your friend and the knowledge that Vil-Tech was certainly </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>what you thought it was, had shaken you. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You’d felt different when you woke up this morning. Like, maybe, leaving your apartment and getting some fresh air wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your favorite barista had smiled sympathetically when you walked through the doors. You must have looked as bad as you felt. Considering you hadn’t showered since you’d gotten home from the hospital, you were sure that you were quite a sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning!” She greeted, mustering up her cheeriest demeanor for you. “The usual, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You nodded, not quite making eye contact as you handed her your card to pay. She quickly waved you off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s on the house today, hon. And I insist that you take this chocolate chip muffin. I’ll make you feel better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Your heart ached at her kindness, the act almost forcing tears in your eyes once again. That was the thing that you realized over the past few days. The Heroics were great, but there were plenty of everyday heroes out there as well. Sometimes it was Ashely the Barista, who scribbles a smiley face and a compliment on your cup on the mornings that seem particularly rough. Sometimes it was Stan the Security Guard, who offers to teach you sudoku on your lunch breaks. And sometimes it was a stranger you passed on the street, who catches you when you fall. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You sat down at a table in the corner of the coffee shop, your vanilla latte and chocolate chip muffin sat out in front of you, untouched for the moment. You didn’t usually sit down to have your coffee, but you had nowhere to be today, and you were finding that you appreciated not being alone for a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You heard the bells above the door jingle, signaling that a new customer had entered the shop. You looked up to see a man with dark hair and a familiar leather jacket walking towards the barista to place his order. You listened closely as he gave his name for his order, though you’d heard it plenty of times on the news this week. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips for the first time in over a week.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Marcus Moreno</span>
  </em>
  <span>, your own personal Superman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>You hadn’t meant to stare, but it was undeniably strange to see the man who had saved you not once, but twice, doing something as mundane as making his morning coffee run. After he paid, he turned towards the groupings of tables and chairs, searching for a place to sit while he waited for his drink to be ready. When his eyes landed on you, you raised your hand in a small wave. You were nervous about how he’d react to seeing you here. You had no doubt that he recognized you this time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You weren’t exactly sure what the protocol was for meeting a real-life superhero again after they had saved your life. Were you supposed to pretend not to know each other? Should you have paid for his coffee? Did you make a public declaration to name your first born child after him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To your surprise, he simply smiled back at you with the most heart-stopping, breathtaking smile you’d ever seen in your life, and returned your wave. It was as simple as that, you thought. Marcus Moreno, the superhero with katanas at this back and a team of Heroics at his side, the closest thing to Superman you’d ever met, was impressive. But Marcus Moreno, the helpful man with a kind, beautiful smile and warm, friendly eyes, whose mere existence had never failed to cheer you up? He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>magnificent</span>
  </em>
  <span>. An everyday hero, indeed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He made this way through the crowd and over to your table, gesturing to the seat across from you as if to ask for your permission to sit down. You nodded, feeling a sense of warmth blossoming in your chest. The same way you’d felt when you saw him for the first time. The same feeling that you’d been dreaming about for months. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Hope</span>
  </em>
  <span>, you realized. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi,” He greeted. “I, uh, I never caught your name. I’m Marcus Moreno.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As you gave him your name, you decided that maybe you could start by just saying thank you. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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